Love Has No Limits - Jean Beazley and the Impactful Women in Her Life
by theletterdee
Summary: A birthday gift for Leah! Happy Birthday and I hope you enjoy this!
1. Catherine Abigail Randall

Everything she learned, Jean learned from her mother.

Her father taught her how to hold her chin up in the face of adversity, what it felt like to have good soil under her hands - the accomplishment of growing something that would last - but Catherine Randall shaped Jean into the woman she'd eventually become.

From her mother, Jean learned how to keep a good house, be a supportive wife and mother, stretch out a meager income when times were lean, and splurge when it counted. Her mother taught her sewing - how to make her own clothes, how to mend them - how it felt when something was complete and made entirely by her own blood, sweat, and tears. She learned all of her recipes from her mother, passed down from Catherine's mother, and her mother before that. She learned the delight of sharing a home cooked meal with others, making things from scratch, and how a proper meal could warm you to the bone.

Thoughts of her mother brought back memories of freshly baked bread in a sunlit kitchen (flour getting everywhere, laughter frequent), the sweet tartness of blackberries on her tongue washed down with cool, fresh water from the stream, the smell of rain on freshly tilled earth, and remnants of her father's pipe tobacco hanging in the air after he kissed them goodbye in the mornings. Soft humming and dancing as they cleaned, weeding the garden, and her mother's sun-kissed chestnut curls and freckled skin. Her mother's hands were strong and calloused - whether they were picking Jean up and dusting her off after a fall, or soothing her when her period came late and the world came crashing down around them.

Life wasn't easy for them, but Catherine Randall made sure her childhood was a happy one. She learned how to work hard from her mother, how to keep a smile on her face and stride forward with confidence through the whispers and rumors. Jack Randall may have taught his daughter how to work the earth, but Catherine taught her how to work people.

It was her mother Jean turned to when she needed advice, needed comfort, or just needed a the warm presence of another person. Her mother had been the one to dry her tears when she found out she was pregnant, held her close the night before her wedding, and always had a cuppa ready when Jean visited with the boys. When her father died, Catherine sold the Randall farm and moved into the Beazley farmhouse where she helped take care of Jean's sons until her own passing.

Her father's passing had been a blow, but when Catherine Abigail Randall left them, it felt like a punch to the gut; Jean found it hard to get out of bed in the months following, but she remembered the lessons her father taught her - " _Chin up, little bird, never let them see you falter_ " - and the lessons her mother taught her - " _Keep smiling, darling girl, you've others to think of"_ \- and managed to drag herself from her bed day after day, month after month, year after year.

The lessons her mother passed on guided her for the rest of her life; they got her through a failing farm, Christopher's death, the trouble with Jack, and having to sell the farm just to survive. They beat a constant tattoo in her head as she became a housekeeper, a receptionist, a nursemaid to a lonely old man - who eventually was replaced by his wayward son. The lessons stayed with her through scandal, heartache, and joyous occasions; they were Catherine's legacy and one Jean strove to pass on with every person she helped.


	2. Abigail Ruth Beazley

The baby had been unexpected - a shocking surprise certainly - but she hadn't been unwanted.

Growing up, Jean always looked forward to the day she'd be a mother - as the years went on and she met the quiet, yet charming Christopher Beazley, she imagined being his wife and having his children. That one night, at the tender age of nineteen for Jean, landed her in hot water - an unexpected pregnancy, a sudden shotgun wedding, facing the disappointment of her parents, and the scorn of the town.

She _loved_ that baby, her little girl - Abigail Ruth. She'd been unexpected, but not unwanted. Jean, young and full of wonderful daydreams of her child as her pregnancy advanced, had been happy. Her and Christopher were intending to marry anyways before that night - Abigail's conception just… moved up the timetable some. They settled into life on the farm - and Jean into the identity of "Mrs. Christopher Beazley" - as her belly grew and she started on a baby blanket.

Jean dreamed of her little girl, but the universe decided on a different course for her.

For the longest time, she couldn't think of Abigail without memories of blood and pain and overwhelming sadness. She remembered the panic, the fear, the feel of Christopher's hands - then her mother's - then the Elder Dr. Blake's. She remembered the sorrow in Thomas Blake's eyes and the tight grip Christopher had on her hand. Her world had tilted on its axis - leaving her dizzy and unsure of anything other than knowing it had been her fault - her punishment from God for her transgression.

Christopher tried to reason with her, but it was the only explanation Jean could accept. Her little girl had been unexpected, but not unwanted, and ripped away from her before she had a chance to see her grow. They didn't even have enough money for a memorial stone at Sacred Heart for Jean to visit. Life went on, Jean carried two boys - two wonderful boys - to term and raised them with Christopher and her mother.

But the image of Abigail Ruth Beazley (Jean couldn't let her go without a name, regardless of what people told her) forever burned in her mind. _What if she'd lived? What kind of person would she have been? Would they be as close as Jean had been to her own mother? Would she have had children of her own?_ Abigail Beazley lived on in what ifs and rose-colored daydreams of the life that might have been - and her short existence on this earth forever impacted Jean.


	3. Genevieve Ettienne Blake

When she first moved into 7 Mycroft Avenue, Jean likened the house to a hollowed out shell of what it had been once; everywhere she went, ghosts followed.

Oh they weren't her ghosts - though Christopher's memory haunted her still - no, they were Thomas Blake's. Memories - usually told over a shared drink after dinner (whiskey for him, sherry for her) - lingered in the dark halls of the house, settling in the dust on the studio doors and over pictures of a curly-haired blond boy with mischief in his eyes. Thomas spoke of his wife fondly, never harshly even when he'd had one too many to drink, and painted a picture of a vivacious woman who had lived life to the fullest.

Jean loved the stories of Genevieve Ettienne Blake - an adventurous woman, full of light and creativity, a mother who loved her son and husband deeply, passionately. Jean was envious of her, of her courage, her passion, her disregard for convention; she was envious and yet dearly wished she'd met Genevieve while she lived. Everywhere she walked, Genevieve followed - her memory suspended in the stories of those she left behind after a far too short life. Immortalized by Thomas Blake, brought to life by Agnes and Nell Clasby, and worshipped by Doug Ashby and Genevieve's son - Lucien Blake.

With the arrival of Thomas' son, the pain of Genevieve's untimely death entered the house like a spectre - skulking in the shadows and the slam of bedroom doors. The chasm between Genevieve's boys echoed with harsh arguments of the past, lingering hurt, regret, and unsaid words. It wasn't until years later that either would get peace and Genevieve's memory allowed to be celebrated by her loved ones instead of hidden away in a darkened studio.

After marrying Lucien, Jean visited her mother-in-law's grave often - moreso after his disappearance. She told Genevieve how she missed Thomas' quiet discussions over whiskey - the crinkling of the newspaper at the breakfast table as he read out the sports column and any interesting tidbits within its pages. She told Genevieve what mischief her son got up to lately - strange smells from the study, exploding glasses, the leg of lamb used as target practice, and how often they had to replace the dishes. She told Genevieve how the garden bloomed - how she'd love the colors and fragrances that filled the sunroom. Jean asked Genevieve to look over Lucien - wherever he was - and to find peace beyond the grave.

From her own mother, Jean learned how to work hard. From her Abigail, Jean learned how to find hope beyond tragedy. From Genevieve Ettienne Blake, Jean learned how to seize the day - seize the chance - and just _live_.


	4. Matilda Mattie O'Brien

Matilda O'Brien brought joy back into 7 Mycroft Avenue.

She was a tenacious girl; her more liberal viewpoints astounded Jean every time politics came up, but her opinions were refreshing and breathed new life into the house. Thomas loved debating with her and their discussions lasted well past his usual bedtime (or the recommended one for Thomas' well-being). Jean hadn't seen him this lively in awhile, so she let it slide.

Mattie loved telling Jean about her days as Ballarat's district nurse and they shared many a cuppa in the afternoons before dinner. Jean delighted in passing on her mother's recipes to Mattie - not knowing how long Mattie would board with them, it was always good to have a few good meals under your belt for the future - and helped the young nurse improve her mending skills. Mattie remarked to her once that she'd gotten better at stitches since coming to the Blake house - earning her a half-hearted swat from Jean's towel as she dried the dishes.

Thomas' health spiraled and Lucien returned - leaving the house in an odd standstill as neither women knew what would happen next, but they supported each other and Lucien in his endeavors to settling in the sleepy gold rush town. Medical terms flew over the dinner table as her and Mattie prepped vegetables for the day, or Jean's knitting needles clicked alongside the turn of a page from whatever book Mattie decided to read.

Time with Mattie brought back the what-ifs Jean had tucked away about Abigail many years before. They were close in age, her girl would have been a couple of years older than Mattie, but Jean hoped Abigail would have been just as forthright as Mattie - just as confident to take on the world. And so, Jean took Mattie under her wing, guiding her gently through the quagmire of romance, scandal, and figuring out her place in the world. She offered a helping hand and a listening ear - sometimes disapproving of Mattie's choices, but she never made Mattie feel like she couldn't do what she put her mind to.

Mattie leaving for London left an ache in Jean's chest, but she was thankful for the time she had with her. She'd learned so much from Mattie in the short time their orbits crossed and Jean knew the lessons would stay with her. Jean learned how to stick up for what was right - and for those forgotten by the system or society. She learned to stick up for herself and to be strong enough to choose what _she_ wanted - not just what was expected of her by the town, and to stick by her convictions.


	5. Joy McDonald

Joy McDonald was not what Jean expected at all.

At first she saw her a nuisance - a pretty little thing who sought to distract Lucien and ruin the doctor's reputation by printing whatever impulsive thought came to his mind. As the journalist visited more and more, however, Jean was grateful for her presence. If the doctor liked Joy, he had more reason to stay, more reason to settle into the role of the country doctor that he tried to shuck off the moment his father passed away. Joy McDonald brought Lucien happiness and Jean could turn a blind eye to… whatever might happen between them. After all, she was just the housekeeper and Joy was a woman of her own making; maybe the doctor would actually listen to a woman like Joy.

' _You can't fix everyone, Jeannie_ ,' Christopher told her in the past, when her heart was heavy and aching to help those who came to her for answers - or just a good cup of tea in the kitchen. No, she couldn't fix everyone, but she could certainly try. Lucien was worth the effort and so she tolerated Joy's visits.

And then China, and then the letter.

" _Yours, with much affection_ " and Joy's sudden return had Jean spinning - her thoughts whirling as she tried to pinpoint the time when Lucien shifted from being "Thomas Blake's son" to "Lucien, her friend". Joy and her had their banter - Jean's usual warning of sullying the doctor's reputation, but since his return from China, all Jean wanted was for him to _stay_. If Joy was the reason he'd stay and put down roots in Ballarat, Jean could put aside their differences and embrace the journalist as a… somewhat ally.

Joy's untimely end - Jean thought it cruel that Lucien was surrounded by so much death - rattled that fragile root system Lucien had tentatively put down since coming home, and Jean walked softly in the days following her death to give Lucien the time he needed to mourn. Jean herself mourned the loss of a potential acquaintance; she wasn't naive enough to assume that they'd ever be friends, but Joy had be a bright spot in a dark world and Jean found herself missing the journalist's presence. Much like Genevieve, Joy taught Jean to seize the moment - live life to the fullest and go after what she wanted because life could be cruelly short and who knew what tomorrow brought.


	6. Doctor Alice Harvey

Jean never envisioned she would be close to Alice.

She was Lucien's coworker - abrupt, odd, and slightly unpredictable, Doctor Alice Harvey was not someone Jean saw herself becoming friends with, and yet…

She wound up learning more from Alice than she thought possible. They were the unlikeliest of allies - later friends - after the pathologist arrived in Ballarat. Alice was there to witness the whirlwind of Jean and Lucien's relationship, of the hardships both had to hurdle before landing at that altar at the Colonist's Club. Alice started off strange, aloof, only speaking to Jean if she had to call the house - Jean playing the messenger between Alice and Lucien - and then… Jean's birthday and the incident at the Colonist's Club.

And then… the Orton debacle and Alice's walls crumbled around her. That moment, when it looked dire for Alice and Jean stuck still debating on whether or not to leave for Adelaide, was the moment that things clicked between the two of them. Alice sought out Jean for comfort - a shaking hand seeking warmth she'd never gotten in the past - and Jean desperately wanted to feel needed, and desperately wanted a distraction from her tumultuous feelings between Lucien and her son.

Alice was a breath of fresh air for Jean. She was still abrupt, still odd, and still unpredictable, but Jean enjoyed it now. She delighted in passing on some of the lessons of her mother's to Alice - who'd experienced a heavier hand than that of Catherine Randall. Over lessons in knitting, sewing, a brief stint in cooking (a disaster, but Jean could still remember the laughter shared), some gardening (Alice did better with herbs than flowers), and baking (Jean was still finding flour in hidden crevices of the kitchen), Jean got to know the quiet pathologist. They shared stories of their pasts over knitting needles, Jean learned about sciences over cups and cups of tea, and Alice learned the nuances of the human emotion in the dappled sunlight of the garden.

Over time, through triumph and heartache, Alice Harvey became a staple in the Blake household - a fixed point in Jean's life she could turn to whenever life seemed too much. She could go to Alice for quiet, for comfort, for another science lesson - even if she ended up spending more time in the morgue than she ever thought she would.

Jean wouldn't trade it for the world.

Alice kept her steady when her world tilted on its axis after Lucien's disappearance. She was the one who could cajole a smile from Jean in the weeks - months - afterwards, she was the one who could distract her with any question that came to her mind; Alice could make her laugh with a sarcastic observation of someone in Ballarat, or provide a quiet, steady hand when Jean thought her heart would burst from her chest with the weight of her sorrow.

The lessons Alice taught her were different from those that came before. Alice expanded her kindness - that her actions and words can have the smallest or biggest impact on the quietest person. Alice taught her that sometimes convention needed to be kicked to the curb, and kicked hard - why _shouldn't_ she do what she thought needed to be done? And Alice taught her that sometimes the best course of action after a long day was a glass of wine, a good book, and the quiet companionship of a friend.


	7. Mei Lin Blake

Mei Lin arrived with a tentative knock - a knock that would have the subtle impact on Jean's life like a car crash.

She'd heard snippets of the former Mrs. Blake from Lucien in the time since his father's funeral. In the beginning, he'd only speak of her if he was that particular level of drunkenness between his pleasantly buzzed drunk and his "playing-piano-at-three-in-the-morning" and "punching-his-oldest-friend-in-front-of-the-town" drunk. Later, once he'd come back from China to see his daughter, once he started to _settle_ , he'd tell her more of Mei Lin - how she was kind to servants and workers alike, how she had a razor-sharp mind and matching wit, how they met, how they fell in love, how he would read to her when she was pregnant with Li (Lucien's voice the only thing that calmed the baby and Mei Lin), how she always smelled of citrus and spice.

The appearance of Mei Lin on the doorstep brought everything Jean knew to a screeching halt. Gone was the future she saw with Lucien, like the wisp of a cloud on a scorching summer's day. Gone was her hopes at loving Lucien - becoming his wife and letting their love show to the public was a dream the moment Mei Lin stepped foot in 7 Mycroft Avenue. With all the quiet of a thunderclap, Jean's life changed and she returned the ring silently to Lucien's desk.

She couldn't blame Mei Lin, no matter how much her heart ached with Mrs. Blake's return. It was not her fault for returning to the one person she'd been seeking for eighteen years. It was not her fault for trying to pick up the pieces of a life long gone. After Derek Alderton's plan came to light, Jean could not fault Mei Lin for her actions - she was being threatened by a man who wielded power in a way neither she nor Mei Lin could imagine. No, Jean could not fault Mei Lin for trying to save the life of her daughter (and her own).

(If she had been in Mei Lin's shoes, Jean likely would have done the same. A mother's love was infinite, deep, and all-encompassing.)

Mei Lin - with her gentle kindness that Lucien spoke of - became an unlikely friend, and Jean cherished her. She cherished Mei Lin's quiet perseverance in the face of the divorce, their shared exasperation with Lucien's antics after the wedding, and the familiar slant of Mei Lin's handwriting after Lucien's disappearance. Through Mei Lin, Jean learned love and trust in those she cared for would guide her through the dark, that life would even itself out in the end, and that friendship could come from the unlikeliest source.


	8. Rose Anderson

Rose Anderson arrived in Ballarat with a bright ambition no one could match.

She took some getting used to, but Jean openly welcomed Matthew's niece into her home. Rose was loud, abrupt, and didn't hesitate to voice her opinions - she and Lucien got on like a house on fire, Jean mused every time the two of them got into one of their debates over dinner. Rose kept Charlie on his toes, exasperated her uncle (and Patrick Tyneman), and got into all sorts of trouble and mischief (usually following after Lucien).

Jean loved it.

Rose breathed a bit of new life into Ballarat and 7 Mycroft Avenue. They weren't as close as she and Mattie had been, but it was nice to have a younger woman popping in and out of the house again. Yes, Rose irritated her sometimes, and she rubbed people the wrong way, but Jean admired her headstrong passion and ambition. Rose reminded Jean of the headstrong and passionate young woman of her youth, who sought to travel the world - her dreams waylaid for decades after conceiving Abigail, a shotgun wedding, and then her life on the farm.

She saw herself in Rose in many ways, and that was why Jean pushed her (gently, subtly) to follow her dreams, to enjoy her younger years when Rose was still figuring out her place in the world, but to also that having a little more patience would smooth things out a lot. Settling down could come later (or not at all), Jean wanted Rose to live her fullest possible life. They didn't always see eye-to-eye, but Rose came to Jean (and later Alice) often for a bit of advice and a fresh cup of tea, and Jean gladly gave it. Her mind drew parallels to similar chats with Mattie and other young women of Ballarat who came to Jean with their troubles - and those thoughts always brought out the what-ifs of Abigail. Just as Jean imagined Abigail to be like Mattie, so she imagined Abigail with Rose's tenacity, her shining ambition to carve out a place in a man's world, her perseverance to climb as many workplace ladders as she could until her fingers bled and blistered. Jean brought Rose under her wing, but Rose taught her lessons too.

Rose taught her to speak up, to go for that seemingly unattainable goal high above her. Rose taught her a different kind of confidence - a confidence that stemmed from knowing her own mind and playing into other people's expectations. She taught Jean when to dig in her heels and fight for what she believed, and Jean was incredibly thankful for Rose's lessons. She held them close after leaving the church, after marrying Lucien, after campaigning for the Council, and after Lucien disappeared. They stayed with her whenever Council meetings were frustrating or the pitying looks in Ballarat got to be too much. Even after Rose left for Melbourne and left Ballarat, her presence lingered in Jean's mind - urging her on to keep at it when the going got tough.


	9. Li Blake

It took a long time for Li to come into her life.

Like Genevieve and Mei Lin, Li existed only in stories and pictures for Jean. She learned of her precociousness from Lucien - how Li's wit and big brown eyes got her in and out of so much trouble when she was growing up. She learned of Li's resilience from Mei Lin - how she'd stick out her chin (looking much like her mother and father) and survive out of spite during the war and then her separation from both her parents.

After her marriage to Lucien, Li's letters arrived more and more - tentatively reaching out to her new stepmother in halting English alongside letters to her father in Chinese. Jean reached back out with broken and wobbly Chinese characters - if Li could make the effort, so would Jean. As Li's written English improved (Jean knew Mei Lin helped her), and Jean's grasp on her stepdaughter's native language grew stronger, the letters became more enjoyable and Jean saw a passionate young woman unfurl across each page. She'd inherited her father's artistic talents - sending Jean paintings and sketches of China, of Mei Lin, of her own beautiful daughter, Yu. Her wit flourished against Jean's humor and Jean found herself looking forward to the post.

She was glad she got to know Li through more than just stories and photographs. Her and Lucien even made special plans (it took a lot of wrangling at the embassy and through Lucien's contacts, even Frank Carlyle helped them out), to get Li and her family to visit Australia. That week up in Melbourne where Jean finally got to meet her stepdaughter, and greet Mei Lin like an old friend, was a bright moment to carry Jean through the next few tumultuous months after Lucien's disappearance. Li's steadfast hope that her father would return to Jean kept her going after the phone calls and the whispers. Her letters (and Mei Lin's) were the reason she got out of bed on the worst days, and brought joy into her life when she was doing better.

Li taught her to maintain hope. Li taught her to see the beauty in the little things - a child's dark eyelashes against their cheeks as they slept, a sly smile on a stoic face, flowers growing through the cracks in a sidewalk. Li taught her to appreciate another culture, to appreciate their differences as well as similarities. Li taught her to keep going - life is awful, life is heavy, but keep going, keep pushing - it will get better.


	10. Jean Mary Randall Beazley Blake

A lot of people shaped Jean into the woman she was at present.

A lot of important people - some fleeting, some constant, some eternal - passed through her life and Jean was grateful for each and every one. They helped her throughout her journey from Jean Mary Randall - a stubborn, loud girl who wanted to see the world, with sun-kissed chestnut curls and heavy freckled skin, bright eyes and big grins - to Jean Blake - councilwoman and investigator, perfectly dressed and poised, but never too proud to help others when they needed it or call them on their bullshit.

She'd had other pit stops along the way to Councilwoman Blake; Jean Randall turned into Jean Beazley - a young bride and mother, calloused hands and thin features, her smile a little less likely to cross her face, but she loved with all her heart. Mrs. Beazley - the respected (and pitied) war widow, never a hair out of place, quiet and solemn as she worked in the tuck shop, and later Dr. Blake's surgery.

Mrs. Beazley turned back into Jean the more time she spent with Lucien and the people he brought through the house. She smiled more, she laughed more, became bolder in her choices - her opinions and morals loosened up a bit as she was exposed to more and more lifestyles. After marrying Lucien, Jean became Jeannie Blake - a doctor's wife, more confident, more open with her smiles and love, who pushed into politics to make things right for other women in Ballarat. Jeannie Blake became Councilwoman Blake - her voice sharper, her stance stubborn as she held her ground in a room of men who sought to push her back down.

She'd been on such a journey to find herself, and while at her core she remained the same, Jean was always changing - adapting to her life and whatever circumstances fate threw at her. So long as _she_ was proud of herself, Jean could remain confident in her choices and actions. So many people helped her to this point: her mother, her daughter, her mother-in-law, Mattie, Joy, Alice, Mei Lin, Rose, Li, and Jean herself. As Jean continued her delve into politics and investigating alongside Alice and Matthew, she kept their lessons close to her heart - drawing on them whenever life got confusing or draining. The lessons were with her always, and they would remain with her long after the people left.

She was Jean Mary Randall Beazley Blake, and she wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
